


Broadway Blues

by mitsukunihaninozuka



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukunihaninozuka/pseuds/mitsukunihaninozuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broadway Blues, or that one where Dean is in Phantom of the Opera.<br/>Throughly disinterested in the monotony of his job, even if working on Broadway is amazing, Dean worries that there might never be an escape. Until one day, where he discovers the mysterious blue eyes behind the organ can enchant him once again with music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broadway Blues

**Author's Note:**

> No promises that I will even finish this, but the idea hit me when I was in New York watching this musical, I couldn't get the idea of the two love-birds singing on the big stage.

          It was simply another Thursday on Broadway, it hadn’t even occurred to Dean that he should be on his guard. He watched as Meg straightened her corset, and Jo curled her hair, this was going to be a performance like all the others.

          He sighed and took another swig from his water bottle, he had had more than enough of this. Dean knew that dating a cast member was unwise, but he had thought Victor had been something different. Now, of course, he was stuck with a leading cast member who hated him.

          He heard the people filing into their seats and the pit warming up their reeds and strings. It must be almost time. He sat still as his makeup artist applied the layer of unnecessary powder and paste. Dean never understood this part of theatrics, he was playing a regular guy, why all the plaster?

          He watched Jo prance to the stage left for her entrance in the slave-dancer outfit, and received a wink from Meg as she took to her stage right entrance. How Meg had landed the role of Christine was still a mystery to Dean, he suspected that she had slept with the casting director.

          Although her Christine made just about as much sense as his Raoul or Victor’s Phantom. This production was a farce. His own brother had somehow procured the role of Andre. Jody Mills, Carlotta, was married to one the set managers who was sleeping with one of the dancers.

          Dean jumped when he heard the gavel drop, the opening scene was already starting, he was pleased that he didn’t make it onto the stage for a while. This scene had some chorus boy in a wheelchair. As always the pipe organ sent a chill down his spine, he knew that the understudy for the Phantom was operating the pedals and keys, he thought absently that he had never even heard the man sing.

           Soon enough her heard Jody’s throaty soprano cut off with the chorus’ cries, and his own brother’s first line. He grinned as he took off to his entrance. He appeared halfway through this song in a full tux. He shifted uncomfortably and gulped, and entered clapping onto his tiny balcony seat on the stage “Can it, can it be Christine? Bravo!” He felt himself slip into his part his deep timber weaving into Meg’s deceptively strong soprano.

           His next scene had speaking lines, horrid speaking lines, his palms sweat and he felt sick. Dean hated speaking on stage, singing he could do in his sleep, but speaking. He could see Meg’s eyes laughing from behind her facade of Christine.

           “Little Lotte thought am I fonder of dolls, or gardens, or shoes?” He found himself singing despite the director’s instructions.

           Meg joined him, the scene was supposed to be sung anyway.

           He raced off stage for Victor to thunder his part from off stage. “Hack.” Dean whispered.

 

           He toyed with his phone off stage, still no reply from Charlie, he wondered if she had made it to the performance like she had been promising for days.

          “No phone on set.” came the snarky voice that could only be Ash, “Don’t want to miss a cue.”

          “Ash, it’s not like this is new.” Dean sighed as they spoke in hushed tones under the signature lake scene, and tried not to choke on the smoke rising from the machines behind stage.

          “Plus my next cue isn’t for a while. Victor has to feel up Meg for, like, a whole song.” Dean sighed.

          “Don’t be mean, Dean. Victor does his job.” Ash laughed.

          “I’m not being mean. I’m allowed to say things like that when he boned some random dancer while we were dating.” Dean snapped. He was justified in his blind rage towards the man, he just was.

          “Dude,” Ash held up his hands in defense, “what the lead does with his dick is none of my business.”

           Dean rolled his eyes. Finally he heard the horn’s opening to ‘Magical Lasso’, “Later Ash, you owe me drinks. Swing by the apartment.” He quickly changed his outfit, because why not procrastinate?

            He could have skipped when heard his brother storm onto the stage during the ‘Notes/Prima Donna’ song. He was proud of the jolly green giant, he really had too much fun with this song. “Damnable!” he heard Sam’s voice boomed, yep, that was his brother.

            Dean clutched his blank piece of paper and waited, he felt his phone go off, he would have to glance at it later. “Where is she!” he belted throwing open the door and began to spit out the lines of the song with a type of joy that he only had when he was fully in song.

            Or at least he was joyful until Victor’s disembodied voice floated across the stage, the hair on his neck and arms stood on end and his teeth clenched. He would be glad to see the back of that man.

            Finally he was seated in his seat, fake box five, and waited for another annoying voice over from his ex-lover. His heart thudded in his chest, something felt off, he wondered if it was still his awkward feeling about working with an ex.

            At this break in his part he checked his phone, Charlie was here, fantastic. He was already off of his game, now he had to work with someone he knew in the audience. Hell.

           “Why have you brought us here?” he sang to Meg as they began their roof scene, he could see Victor crouching behind the floating angel, suspended about fifteen feet above his head. Dean hated that guy.

            The stairs to the lower stage opened, Dean pulled Meg down the stairs still singing soft lines of eternal love. He saw Victor stand to deliver his lines, and he watched as he slipped off of the rigging and plummeted to the ground.

           Dean screamed and jumped back onto the stage, Meg stood in shock. Victor’s legs were bent in the wrong direction, but he seemed alright. He was breathing at least, Dean watched his eyes flutter closed, he grabbed for his phone and called 911 without even caring about breaking character.

           Bobby, the producer stepped on stage to quiet the audience, “Please remain in your seats. Victor, the Phantom, will receive immediate medical attention. However, in ten minutes time we will have a substitution for the role.”

           Bobby’s voice lowered as he asked his headset if the understudy was here, Dean heard Ash’s reply, “The part shall be played by Castiel Milton, please, remain calm and in your seats.”

           Dean wondered vaguely why there was no talk about refunds of tickets. Quicker than he would have thought possible the curtains were dropped and a stretcher pulled Victor away from him.

           It must have been about ten minutes, because Ash shepherded him from the stage, and he saw a pair of remarkably blue eyes staring from under Victor’s mask.

           Ironically the piece Victor had been about to finish was right before intermission, so the rest of the performance picked up as if nothing had happened. Dean was still rattled for the Entr’acte.

           Yet they all poured onto the stage. Dean was shaking slightly, but had made his final major costume change, it was the heaviest and itchiest costume he wore in the entire performance. He watched the pit playing a recording of this Castiel’s organ playing since he was clearly the only organist in the theatre, not that surprised Dean, who plays the organ anymore?

           ‘Masquerade/Why So Silent’ was one of Dean’s favorite moments in the whole show, and he was happy to sing and twirl Meg around on the stage, but he was waiting to hear his cues and robotically swaying. His mind was still on Victor. He almost missed his cue from Meg, she jabbed him in the side, “Why is it secret, what do we have to hide?”

           But he was jolted awake the moment this new Phantom opened his mouth, his voice was an octave lower than the song is intended to be sung, but his timber was so eerie and perfect. Dean felt shivers go up his spine and he literally froze on stage, his eyes glued on this man. Meg curled into his side, like the stage directions called, but when she looked up to meet his eyes Dean heard an indignant huff.

           “Dean.” she hissed.

           “Why so silent good Monsieurs, had you thought that I had left you for good?” Dean’s whole body was rigid as this lithe man took the measured steps down the staircase, the skeletal mask painted onto his face made him look like some kind of lust driven devil, “have you missed me good Monsieurs, I have written you an opera. Here I bring the finished score, ‘Don Juan Triumphant’.” With a beautifully perfect toss the score landed directly into Sam’s arms, just like Victor had spent weeks practicing. He understood why Bobby hadn’t mentioned any refunds.

            “I advise you to comply, my instructions are should be clear, remember there are worse things than a shattered chandlere.” The blue-eyed phantom took steps towards Dean and Meg, and it occurred to Dean that he wasn’t breathing.

            “You’re chains are still mine, you belong to me!” This Castiel yanked the necklace from Meg’s neck and snapped it, he dangled the ring in front of her face. His unearthly blue eyes glanced to Dean as if to ask him why he was still standing there, which was a good question, since he wasn’t supposed to be.

            Dean gulped as Castiel vanished into the set with a blast of smoke. He heard Sam begin the reprise of ‘Notes’ but his mind was still foggy. Almost like someone had set up one of the clunky fog machines in his brain. Meg was pulling the lines out of him like pulling teeth. “Christine, you don’t have to. They can’t make you.” He was sure his own voice was breathy.  
He was just falling into the song when it was time for Castiel’s voice ghosted over Anna’s, “Carlotta must be taught to act,” his voice was enchanting.

            Dean found himself wondering what his spoken voice sounded like. “not her normal trick of strutting round the stage. Our Don Juan must lose some weight - it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age.” Dean let out a snicker, the kind that was obviously heard by the audience and he blushed furiously, “And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts.”

           This Phantom was going to drive Dean mad, his voice was so perfect, “As for Miss Christine Daae. No doubt she'll do her best, it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher.”

           Dean was holding on to every word and was genuinely upset when he heard Ellen cut Castiel off, “Your obedient friend, and Angel.”

           Dean burst into violent song and moving quickly about the stage, “We have all been blind, and yet the answer is staring us in the face. This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend,”

          “We’re listening,” came Sam’s voice, and he sounded concerned.

          “Go on,” was Kevin’s addition.

          “We shall play his game, perform his work, but remember we hold the ace.” Dean jumped on to the desk for emphasis, something he had never done before, and startled most of the cast. He leaned in to deliver the second half of his segment. “For, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend.” He continued singing with full force, like he suddenly wanted to impress this new Phantom. Maybe he did.

          “We make sure the doors are barred.” Kevin shrank away from Dean as if he was surprised by the change in his demeanor.

          “We make certain that our men are there.” Sam added seeming to be feeding off of Dean’s energy.

          “We make certain they are armed.” Dean boomed.         

         “The curtain falls, his reign will end!” they all chimed. The song increased in madness with each of the actors feeding off of Dean’s manic energy and racing around the desk under him.

          He jumped when Meg screamed to stop the madness, he slipped off of the desk and walked to her side, as if he had just remembered she was there. “You said yourself, he was nothing but a man. Yet while he lives he will haunt us till we’re dead.”

          Meg’s voice grated his nerves, so high and reedy, he wanted to hear Castiel’s instead.

         “Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care, but every hope and every prayer rests on you now.” But Dean didn’t care, he could have laughed as the song swirled and built around him. 

         “So, it is to be war between us! But this time, clever friend, the disaster will be yours!” Dean bellowed to the rafters of the theatre, his breathing shallow and his arms thrown over his head.

          He rushed off of the stage as the set was quickly changed.

         “Dean?” He heard Sam ask quietly, “What the hell was that? I haven’t heard you sing like that in years.”

         “I don’t know, something must have hit me.” He shrugged, or someone, he thought to himself.

         Dean felt his palms sweat and his jaw tighten, he had a scene with Castiel coming up, how was he going to interact with this Phantom?

         Dean’s eyes were trained on the floor, he didn’t want to get sucked into Castiel’s performance again, he needed to focus on his lines.

          He felt the fire singe his arm as Castiel shot it from his cane, finally he made eye-contact with those bluest blue eyes. Dean stood stock still, caught in those eyes, “Once again she is his, once again she returns.” he whispered, “To the arms of her angel,” he bellowed at the Phantom, “Bring her back from her grave, leave her strange angel!”

          “Angel of darkness seize this torment!” Dean cried and tried to grab for Meg. He almost heard her lines, but his eyes were glued on Castiel’s mouth, how was his speaking voice so much lower than his singing voice.

           “Such spirited words Monsieur, that’s right keep walking this way! I’m here, I’m here, the Angel of Death!” He felt another ball of fire fly close to his face. It snapped him out of his trance.

           “So be it, now let it be war upon you both!” Castiel cried, Dean felt his legs go weak, and despite the stage directions Meg pulled him off of the stage.

            “Dean Winchester, what the hell?” Meg hissed.

             “I don’t know.” he whispered, his eyes still trained on the the man disappearing from the stage.

              He took to his balcony seat, his body felt as if it were trapped in molasses, throwing his lines to the police and Sam about closing the doors. He shivered when Castiel’s voice took over the theater and resounded in the darkest corners.

             The play within the play ‘Don Juan’ began, and Dean found himself actively watching for Castiel to replace Crowley’s place as Don Juan. The tall and thin man was starkly different from the short man, and it was instantly obvious that the change had taken place. That and Crowley’s tinny voice was impossible for Castiel to imitate, so his deep gravel voice rumbled from under the black hood.

             He watched and was horrified that he was jealous, Castiel’s long fingers were caressing Meg’s neck as he sang, “Past the point of no return, no backward glances. Our games of make-believe are at an end.”

             Castiel stood and lead Meg by her fingertips to the stairs, “Past all thought of 'If' or 'When', no use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend.” He spun quickly on the stairs and wrapped his arms around her waist and lay a hand across her breast, “What raging fire shall flood the soul?”

             Dean was certain Castiel’s blue eyes had met his behind stage, “What rich desire unlocks its door?”

             No, really, Castiel’s eyes were trained directly on him, “What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.” Castiel kissed Meg’s hair and waited for her to pick up her lines.

            “You have brought me to that moment when words run dry.” Meg wasn’t bringing anything new to the performance tonight, just a normal Thursday show.

            “To that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence, I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining.” Dean wasn’t jealous, not at all, not even when she ran her fingers through Castiel’s messy hair. Nope. She couldn’t even sing, he scoffed to himself.

            “Defenseless and silent now I am here with you. No second thoughts, I've decided, decided. Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun. Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question.” Dean sucked in a breath, he knew what was coming, but he felt his heart shudder, “How long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” Meg was almost laying on top of Castiel, how annoying. This was where the original script had the phantom unmasked, but their director had different ideas, Castiel’s face was still covered.

            Castiel melted his voice on top of Meg’s and the result was beautiful, as if his voice mellowed hers. “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return.”

            Meg fell silent and Castiel took over his lines at the end of the song, those blue eyes met Dean’s again and Castiel sang to  bring down the theatre.

          “Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, Christine that's all I ask of--” Dean literally jumped when Crowley’s body was discovered off stage and Jody’s scream pierced through his thoughts.

         The stage burst into life, and he had to race onto the stage to deliver his lines. This phantom was going to be the death of him.

         Castiel was subtle in this song, his voice quiet and lulling, the pit playing softly to match him, “Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell! Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?”

         “Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!” He ripped his own mask free, the director had wanted the Phantom to unmask himself, it didn’t make much sense when Victor did it. But it made sense when Castiel did.

          Dean frowned when the chorus cut across Castiel’s voice, “Track down this murderer! He must be found!” He found himself rooting for the phantom for the first time in his life.

          Castiel seemed to connect with the phantom on some kind of visceral level, “Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere! No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! Christine, Christine. Why, why?”

           Ellen was leading me along the stage, “Your hand at the level of your eyes, at the level of your eyes.”

           The chorus boomed, “Track down this murderer he must be found! Track down this murderer he must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know, the phantom of the opera is here deep down inside! He's here the Phantom of the Opera. He's here the Phantom of the Opera.”

          Meg cried from the stage, “Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood? Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?”

          Castiel grabbed one of her arms and pulled her up from her sitting position, “That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the flesh. This face, the infection which poisons our love. This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing. A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing. Pity comes too late, turn around and face your fate: an eternity of this before your eyes!”

          Once again, Dean felt himself feeling for the Phantom, rather than Christine in this scene, “This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It's in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

          Dean rose from the trap door in the stage and clung to the metal bars that created a wall in the stage.

          Castiel met his eyes and jumped off of his perch on the chair, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!” He manically raced to the wall and lifted it for Dean to enter, “Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come.” He fondled a rope and spun it between his fingers. “And now my wish comes true - you have truly made my night!” He slammed the wall back into place.

          Dean had almost no motivation for his line, “Free her! Do what you like only free her! Have you no pity?” But he could let this Phantom do anything he wanted to him.

          Castiel’s head turned from Dean and back to Meg, “Your lover makes a passionate plea!”

          Meg cried, ignored by Dean, from the island, “Please Raoul, it's useless!”

          Dean delivered his lines to the back of Castiel’s head instead, “I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion.”

          Castiel turned suddenly and stuck the metal bars by Dean’s head and began tying him in place, “The world showed no compassion to me!” Dean could have cried, for the Phantom, but the audience couldn’t tell what was motivating his tears.

          “Christine, Christine,” Dean was singing so softly he wondered if the audience could hear him at all, “Let me see her.”  
Castiel laughed, “Be my guest, sir. Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her?” The thin man’s arms lifted and he seemed almost to be dancing, “Why should I make her pay for the sins which are yours? Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes!” Castiel slipped the loose noose around Dean’s neck, and brushed his fingers against his neck, Dean gasped. “Nothing can save you now, except perhaps Christine.”

           Castiel turned away from him again, and Dean would have reached for him, if his hands had been free, “Start a new life with me. Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!”

           Meg sang, and Dean almost shushed her, “The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold, and turn to tears of hate!”

           He almost missed his line again, Dean was so wrapped up in listening, “Christine, forgive me please forgive me. I did it all for you, and all for nothing.”

          Castiel cut across this time, killing one of Meg’s lines, “Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!”

          Dean cried his response, “Say you love him and my life is over.”

         “All hope of cries for help; no point in fighting!” Castiel turned and sang his line to Dean instead of Meg.

          They sang together, “For either way you choose, you cannot win!”

          Castiel continued, “So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?”

          Dean added, “Why make her lie to you, to save me?”

          They were singing to each other, and spent no time thinking about Meg, until she had a line, “Angel of Music.” Oh right, Meg.

          Castiel turned slowly breaking the spell of their eye-contact, “Past the point of no return.”

          Dean seemed to be pleading for him to turn around again, “For pity's sake, Christine, say no!”

          Meg seemed about done with this fight for attention, “Who deserves this?”

          Castiel sang, “The final threshold.”

          Dean threw his line at him, “Don't throw your life away for my sake!”

          “When will you see reason?” Meg seemed confused, and fighting for attention in a scene where she should have been the focal point.

          “His life is now the prize which you must earn!” Castiel’s took a few steps forward so he could turn his body to both of them.

          Dean sang with such passion, “I fought so hard to free you.” It was at war with his character and the plot of the scene, but he needed to get his emotion into the line.

         “Angel of Music.” The whisper of Meg’s voice was much more appropriate with the scene.

         It seemed that Castiel was following Dean’s cues rather than Meg’s, for he responded with passion and fire, “You've passed the point of no return.”

          Meg dampened her voice even farther, almost like she wanted to lead by example, “You deceived me. I gave my mind blindly.”

          Castiel yelled at Meg, “You try my patience, make your choice!”

           Dean already knew what answer Meg was going to give, but he held his breath anyway, “Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you you are not alone.” She walked to him and kissed his misshapen mask of a face. Dean felt like throwing things.

           The chorus brought him back to reality, “Track down this murderer he must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know, the phantom of the opera is there deep down inside!”

            It seemed to have jogged Castiel awake as well, “Take her, forget me, forget all of this.” His voice was wavering like the scene was supposed to be performed, “Leave me alone, forget all you've seen. Go now, don't let them find you! Take the boat, leave me know, swear never to tell, the secrets you know, of the angel in hell!” he spoke with wild motions of his arms, and he cut Dean free with a yank of the knife left on set. “Go now! Go now and leave me!” His shout shocked Dean, and Meg had to pull him from the stage again.

            “Damn it Dean, get it together.” she whispered, before re-entering the stage.

             Dean crept to the edge of the curtain to watch Castiel caress the monkey’s pillow as it chimed out the haunting melody, “Masquerade,” he was almost whispering, “Paper faces on parade,” but the emotion within that whisper was earth shattering.

             “Masquerade,” he took a shaking breath and Dean saw a real tear on his face, “Hide your face so the world will never find you.”

             “Christine, I love you.” Castiel whispered as Meg made her entrance behind him, a ring held out in her right hand. Castiel took it, and Meg turned away from him as the music swelled.

             Dean reentered and jumped onto the fake-floating boat to grab her as she sang, “Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

             Dean’s eyes were still on Castiel as he answered, “Share each day with me.”

            “Each night.” Meg grabbed his arm.

            “Each morning.” They chimed together and ended with a kiss, but Dean craned his neck to see Castiel’s final lines.

           “You alone can make my song take flight, it's over now, the music of the night!” And those haunting eyes vanished into a burst of smoke leaving only his mask on the velvet seat for little Jo to discover.

            The curtain call revealed the first, well lit, full-view of Castiel’s face. He was beautiful, and obviously uncomfortable in the spotlight, but he stepped forward and addressed the audience, “Victor, the first phantom, is in the hospital and doing well. He will return to us in a few short months.” The audience burst into applause.

            Dean was horrified, months of that haunting voice, there was no way.

           They finished the curtain call, and Castiel’s bow was met with a roar of applause, and Dean was surprised he was met with some standing ovations himself. He saw a redhead jumping and yelling in the fifth row back to get his attention, he winked at her and made a phone with his hand, “Call me.” he whispered.

            He couldn’t see Charlie’s face, but he knew he was getting a snarky look that would wither lesser men.  
The curtain fell, and the cast dissolved, Dean struggled against the mass of people to find this Castiel. “Castiel! Cas!” he called spinning in place to look for him.

            That insanely deep voice rumbled from behind him, “No one has called me ‘Cas’ before.”

            Dean spun and almost smacked into him, he blushed furiously, “I’m sorry.”

            “I like it.” The man didn’t step back, and now their proximity was making Dean feel nervous. His blue eyes were inches away from Dean.

           Dean’s mouth formed the word ‘Oh’, but the word didn’t leave his mouth.

           He heard his brother calling his name, but he was ignoring it, “I’m Dean.”

           “I know.” Castiel tilted his head to the side, almost like a confused kitten, “I see you almost every day.”

           Dean frowned slightly, but I had never seen you, “Well, now we are working together, want to go out for a drink?” He was trying to be smooth, but it was hindered by the fact he was still bright red in the face.

           “Where?” Castiel asked.

           “Umm, my apartment,” Dean didn’t really have the budget for a night out, “my brother and our friend Charlie are coming over.”

            “I wouldn’t want to impose.” Castiel muttered.

            “Dude, I offered.” Dean punched him lightly in the arm, Castiel’s unearthly blue-eyed gaze seemed to lock on the arm like it was just now being discovered.

           “You hit me.” his gravel and bass voice was riddled with confusion.

           “Yeah,” Dean blushed deeper, “I did.”

           He was saved by Sam, and the tiny little redheaded firecracker he had sheltered under his giant arm, “You inviting the man of the hour?”

           “I was trying.” Dean hissed to his brother.

          “Oh,” Charlie giggled, “Dean, calm down, Sam has a boo-thing. He’s not interested in your Phantom.”

          If it was possible, Dean would have melted into the floor where he stood.

          “I know.” Castiel added blankly, “Samuel Winchester is dating my elder brother.”

          It was Sam’s turn to be shocked, “Gabe is your brother? You? You’re Cassie? I thought Cassie was his sister.”

         “He always seems to portray me in that light.” Castiel nodded, not at all distressed by this news.

          Dean floundered for a moment, Gabe had tried to set him up with ‘Cassie’, but Dean had waved him off saying that any sibling of his couldn’t be his type. Boy had he been wrong.

          “Dude, I’ve been in your apartment. How have I never seen you?” Sam asked.

          “I am normally in my room or on the fire escape. I do not usually socialize well.” Castiel was being shepherded towards the door. Charlie, having decided that the man was coming with them, had taken it upon herself to take the brothers and the new Phantom out of the door.

           Soon enough they were all headed to the Winchester’s apartment, “Dude, fair warning, I invited Ash too.”

          “Is everyone coming to the apartment?” Sam hissed, “Should I have invited Gabe?”

          “Don’t get your panties in a wad, it’s not an event, we’re just having some drinks.” Dean sighed typing in his passcode without sparing his phone a glance.

          Castiel was walking silently next to him, a bit closer than was socially acceptable, but he wasn’t complaining. Dean spied the dark-haired man looking at his phone while he was fake-texting.

          What was so important that he couldn’t watch where he was walking? Dean rolled his eyes, he needed to stop being an idiot, he was looking at his own phone.

          “Dean, come on, let’s get going.” Charlie said stealing his phone from his hand, and taking Castiel’s in the same move, then raced off. “You’ll get them back when we get to the apartment.” She cackled.

           Dean growled playfully, “Oh, when I catch you Charlie, you’ll need a pillow to sit for the next week," he watched a blush creep across Castiel’s pale face.

           Dean wondered what could have caused that blush, and how he could make it happen again, he needed to make that happen again.


End file.
